


The End of their Work Day

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, PWP, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Smut, Tactile, Team Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vortex is tired, but Blast Off doesn't care. And Vortex doesn't either.</p>
<p>smut (of the plug’n’play kind), tactile, sort of fluff, not really consent-issues / Blast Off/Vortex</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of their Work Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AcidGreenFlames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidGreenFlames/gifts).



> **Continuity:** G1 (part of ultharkitty’s [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1)) pre-war  
>  **Warnings:** smut (of the plug’n’play kind), tactile, sort of fluff, not really consent-issues  
>  **Characters:** Blast Off/Vortex  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Summary:** Vortex is tired, but Blast Off doesn’t care. And Vortex doesn’t either.  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty, thank you! :D

Vortex collapsed on the berth.

He was tired, and his joints were sore. It wasn’t nice, but rather an annoying soreness from moving boxes and heavy equipment around. He could still feel the strain on his cables and hydraulic mechanisms.

At any other time he’d enjoy the sensations, but right now they were distracting him from relaxing and recharging. He shifted on the berth, trying to find a comfortable position, and settled on his front.

A few minutes later, the door opened with a creaking sound followed by heavy steps on the floor.

With an effort, Vortex managed to turn his head enough to see Blast Off. But who else could have it been? They were together on this Sigma-forsaken alien planet to gather some loot. They had to share a room, and one single berth, and Vortex had been looking forward to the trip.

He couldn’t have known that Blast Off would push him so much to get most of the work done in one Cybertronian cycle – which were two and a half star cycles on this planet. It’d felt weird working through the night and the following day, but it was over now, and finally there would be recharge.

Maybe tomorrow morning he could convince Blast Off to spend some of their time on more entertaining things, but for tonight he was done for. Vortex was way too undercharged to initiate anything himself, even if seeing the shuttle easily heaving heavy crates around and displaying his strength like that had been hot. Right now he just wanted to sleep.

“Turn over,” Blast Off said, voice blank, but with a hint of an order.

Vortex resisted groaning in annoyance. The shuttle hated it when he lay on his front with his rotors in the air. Of course, the shuttle was allowed to be comfortable, and he had to pull in his rotor hub and lie on it so that it was aching in the morning.

A discontent grumbling was his only protest. He shuffled his rotors down, and rolled over onto his back. With a click and a quick transformation sound, his rotor blades snapped onto his back.

“Satisfied now?” he muttered, and offlined his optics. The shuttle should see that Vortex was capable of ignoring people too.

The sound of Blast Off’s intakes venting a huff was the only response. If Blast Off had nodded along with it, Vortex didn’t care.

Slowly, the first few systems shut down, preparing for recharge and defrag, and for his self-repair to take care of his strained joints and cables.

Vortex relaxed.

Only to tense again when he felt the berth moving next to him – on both sides.

Vortex’ optics onlined again, recalibrating to take in the vision of Blast Off looming over him, bracing with his hands to either side.

“Huh?” It wasn’t the most dignified reaction, but Vortex hadn’t expected this, and his tired processor just wasn’t capable of a more coherent reply.

A black hand rose, and began to trace the rim of Vortex’ vent slowly. A finger dug into a transformation seam and tickled the circuits beneath, causing Vortex to relax again. It felt good, really, but it didn’t spark the charge that it usually would.

Blast Off truly had bad timing.

With an uncoordinated movement, Vortex reached for Blast Off’s arm. “Don’t,” he said, his voice drowsier than intended. “I don’t have enough charge for that.” Which was unfortunate, because Vortex didn’t really want the shuttle to stop.

Another huff, this time vented over Vortex’ plating, then Blast Off leant down. The hand was still busy tracing over seams and grey metal when his voice rasped near Vortex’ audial. “Did you refuel?”

Vortex gave a minute nod. “I did,” he answered, distracted by the sound of Blast Off’s battle mask retracting. “But I’m really low on-“ He never finished the sentence as he gasped when Blast Off bit his neck cables. His optics dimmed, and his fingers curled against Blast Off’s lower arm.

The shuttle nibbled along the cables of his throat and reached the jaw line, glossa flicking out and causing Vortex to sigh. His own battle mask slid aside and he turned his head a little towards Blast Off’s. He’d really like to kiss the other.

But Blast Off moved on, lower again from the cables to his collar plates while the black fingers touched the rim of Vortex’ interface panel.

Oh frag.

Vortex’ optics flickered.

The shuttle really did have bad timing. He’d probably fall asleep soon, and Blast Off would be so angry. But that meant Vortex could make it up to him tomorrow morning, and-

Sensations distracted him from continuing his train of thought. Vortex gasped anew, a keen sound caused by Blast Off’s mouth being busy on the ridges of the plating under his chest. Blast Off’s arm was out of reach now, and Vortex didn’t know where to put his hand, or what to do with it; he just clenched it to a fist.

He sighed at more attention to his body; Blast Off’s other hand was fondling a tip of a rotor while the shuttle bit, nibbled and kissed his way further down.

Sigma, that was unfair. Why now when Vortex probably wasn’t able to keep awake much longer? He squirmed at the touch to his aft and the lips in his interface panel. Dizziness spread from charge flaring inside him, the last bit in his frame gathering on the intimate hardware as his body heated up.

And Blast Off continued touching, stroking, tracing over sensitive spots.

Vortex’ optical input filled with static; his interface panel opened. It earnt him a content rev of a strong shuttle engine and a hot flare of the other’s energy field.

It washed over Vortex, a crawling prickling wave that made him whimper. His own field answered with charge he didn’t realise he still had.

Blast Off chuckled against the delicate plating between his port and connector, the sound reverberating into him. If Vortex had been more energised, it would have made him overload on the spot.

It took him a moment to focus again, to reboot his optics and look down his side. To look at what Blast Off did there, because slag, he wanted to see it. Needed to when Blast Off hardly ever paid this kind of attention to him. He felt as though he should reciprocate somehow, but his arms were so heavy, and it still was Blast Off. He probably wasn’t fond of being touched anyway. Though it wasn’t as if Vortex was completely passive, he did let his field flare in waves. It was weaker than the shuttle’s but he couldn’t manage to put more intensity into it with his current energy level.

More static filled Vortex’ HUD when Blast Off stroked with his thumb over the rim of his port. He writhed, his leg pushing against Blast Off’s arm.

A growl followed, and Vortex experienced a mixed feeling of confusion and panic at what had he done now. He didn’t want Blast Off to stop. He really, truly didn’t, and while he usually wasn’t into being that inactive and being handled like that, it was Blast Off. Blast Off could do to him whatever he liked if only he didn’t stop.

Vortex whimpered again, followed by a sigh in relief the moment Blast Off lifted his leg to rest on the shuttle’s shoulder to give more room on the other side where the panel was. Fingers pressed against Vortex’ thigh, strong enough to make the metal bulge without bending it while Blast Off leant low; his glossa played with the electrical contacts inside Vortex’ port. 

Vortex arched up, resisting throwing his head back because he wanted to watch. His ventilation picked up, fans working louder without his cooling system switching on just yet.

“Blast Off?” he said, the name obscured within the static of his voice. He needed to connect. His systems would protest, he was sure, but he wanted to feel the shuttle.

Blast Off looked up.

No, he wasn’t supposed to do that, he should continue, but also connect them; Vortex squirmed. Moaning loudly as Blast Off’s field invaded his interface hardware so strongly, his visual feed nearly cut out. His sense of direction failed and his head dropped onto the berth.

“Did you say something?”

Vortex almost missed Blast Off’s words, and he struggled to perk up again. “Connect us?” he said, needier and closer to begging than he’d have liked. But he needed a connection, needed a full interface because he wouldn’t be able to overload like this. He needed the shuttle’s charge, or he’d go nuts with the static crawling back and forth without being enough to reach climax.

Blast Off huffed, and took out Vortex’ connector. The shuttle grinned, pulling it out to his mouth and licking it once. Then he nibbled along the cable down to the base on the interface panel.

This would have been the second time Vortex had overloaded if his energy level hadn’t been so low.

Finally, Blast Off plugged Vortex’ connector in, and he felt the energy draining, flooding Blast Off who groaned against Vortex’ still empty port.

His HUD shorted out when Blast Off continued to lick and touch and stroke and caress, causing electricity to spark on the inside of Vortex’ interface.

But he didn’t complete the connection.

“Please,” Vortex begged again over the noise of his cooling system activating, not caring how desperate he sounded. He onlined his optics again, fingers digging into the soft covering of the berth while his other hand reached for Blast Off’s helm.

He never touched it. Instead he bucked hard when eventually Blast Off showed mercy and plugged in.

The shuttle’s presence took over instantly, a stream of energy and blissful sensations that made Vortex’ joints lock for the first intense moment. His optics glowed brightly, then they flickered and shorted out, and his vocaliser failed.

Blast Off’s charge cruised through him, along lines and wires, over circuits and sensor clusters and flowed back into the shuttle. It was a different kind of feedback loop, like energy flowing in a circle where Blast Off was the most present entity. Every time the charge streamed back into Vortex, it was more intense, and there was no way of controlling it. A recursive connection in which Vortex seemed only to be taken and consumed.

It was maddening.

His rotors trembled, and he noticed it for the first time when Blast Off’s field pounded onto him. His own was too weak to reach out, to mingle with the shuttle’s, but it was okay.

It was a completely different kind of being dominated, and Vortex embraced it. His hands clutched at the berth, searching for support, something for purchase while he felt like he was falling apart.

When he onlined his optics, Blast Off was staring at him. Purple optics behind the visor gleaming, the vocaliser producing growling sounds of pleasure that blended into Vortex’ needy gasps and moans.

Vortex muttered something, incapable of coherent thought; it could have been Blast Off’s name, or a plea for more.

It must have been the later, because Blast Off took Vortex’ arm and wrapped it around his neck, and Vortex welcomed the new opportunity to hold on. His fingers groped, seizing a neck cable, making Blast Off’s engine rumble even louder.

The shuttle grinned.

It didn’t make sense, not right then, but a few astroseconds later when Blast Off bit down on one of Vortex’ tail rotors.

Vortex arched up, tensing, and his moan morphed into a silent scream as Blast Off didn’t stop.

It was too much.

Systems gave in and circuits burned when his body was pushed into overload. His silent scream became a staticky cry, and his body convulsed from the intensity of charge. Everything around him spun while he clutched at whatever he could reach, wherever he could hold on to. Rotor blades shuddered wildly beneath him, and his weak energy field flared as strong as it was able, only to be pushed down again as soon as Blast Off overloaded. It caused another flood of sensations, intense pleasure that was painful on aching joints as he was consumed by the shuttle’s presence one last time.

Vortex remained in a state of delightful agony, of sore circuits and joints and heavy limbs. His arm had slid down and lay next to him, next to the shuttle that had collapsed on the berth. They were still connected, but the stream of data and energy had died down. Merely pings remained, and Vortex’ systems feeding of Blast Off’s energy to keep functioning. Vortex hoped Blast Off wouldn’t break it up any time soon, or he might go into stasis.

Turning his head, Vortex grinned at Blast Off. His processor was still in a state of overwhelmed daze and post-overload contentment, unable to focus on any coherent thought for too long. He wanted to say something, but all his vocaliser produced was a burst of static.

It took him another breem to recover enough that he could roll on his side and shuffle closer to Blast Off.

The shuttle onlined his optics when Vortex touched his side, and a query about what he was doing transmitting through the connection.

“’m cold,” Vortex muttered, struggling to keep his speech intelligible. “Low on energy.”

“Excuses,” Blast Off huffed, but neither did he disconnect them, nor did he push Vortex away.


End file.
